


Care

by deltachye



Category: Dangerous Fellows (Visual Novel)
Genre: Comfort, Gift Fic, One Shot, Other, Sickfic, esque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x eugene]he reminds you of what it means to feel human.[DW19]





	Care

It’s kind of nerve wracking to be on a night watch with Eugene. For starters, you’re roaming a pitch-black building that could very well have those murderous zombies lurking in shadowy corners. Secondly, you’re pretty sure Eugene hates you and everybody else that has the audacity to exist in his immediate presence. Thirdly, you just fell down the stairs.

So, it already seems like it’s going badly.

“What the hell?!” is the first thing Eugene says, quickly jogging down the steps to meet you at the bottom. Dazed, you lift your head and peer down at the rest of your body. It feels like it’s disconnected. You don’t know what just happened. One second you were creeping down each step, clinging onto the railing—next, you were waking up at the bottom. The pain stings dully, right down to the bone. Nervously you inhale and wiggle your fingers and toes. They’re a little numb with pain, but they’re moving, so at least you’ve got that.

“[Name],” Eugene hisses. It feels weird to have somebody talk to you so personally all of the sudden, especially him of all people. You blink at him blearily as he stares into your eyes, an expression hinging on worry and exasperation. “Are you okay?”

“I… yeah, I think I am.”

More comes back to you and you realized how badly you’ve fucked up. Making noise is as good as a death wish, and you doubt that you had just gracefully taken a silent tumble down these steps. You whip your head around to look for signs of danger, but it throbs angrily when you move so quickly. You must’ve bumped it on the way down. You clutch it in the hopes the pain will recede.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You just collapsed.”

You’d thought you’d slipped. Your brow furrows with obvious confusion, and you see it mirrored on his face. He’d thrown his hood back some time—you can’t remember when—and draws in closer. Startled, your breath catches in your throat as he leans in enough for you to feel warmth on your cheek. His eyes dart back and forth and then narrow with suspicion.

“You’re not eating, are you?”

The sudden accusation takes you off guard yet again. He’s right, but what gave it away? You open your mouth to ask why he’s taking it so seriously, but falter when his amber eyes gleam furiously in the moonlight.

“What the hell have you been doing with your rations?!”

You wince at the whisper yell. It makes you shrink back, now compelled to tell the truth.

“I just sneak it back into the store room… It’s better for the group if I take less anyways.”

“So what do you eat?”

“Um… just bits here and there. I’m fine. I’m getting by.”

“You are _not_ fine. I thought you’d be able to get that by now.”

His voice is cool and testy. He’s actually genuinely mad. For a second you wonder why; if it’s because you’ve been keeping secrets from the group, or if it’s because you could’ve been giving your extra rations to him—but then he reaches forwards and pulls a stray piece of hair out of your eyes and tucks it gently behind your right ear. You feel frozen, like your heart has stopped completely in your chest.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he chides, but his voice is softer than you’d imagine of the usually petulant boy. He seems to be a completely different person as he hovers over you. Suddenly it reminds you—what it felt like to be cared about, before you were alone and before all of this happens. Being held accountable to another person because they actually gave a shit whether or not you were okay, and not just _okay_ , but happy.

It’s embarrassing to cry but you do, slapping a hand over your mouth before you can make any more noise than you already do. The emotion wells over you like it’s broken through a dam. You’ve been holding so much in ever since this whole ordeal begun, and you’d never felt safe confronting your feelings. Eugene starts when he sees the tears well over and fall, and immediately his hands shoot up like he’s going to calm you down by petting you or something silly.

“Hey—sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I’m sorry, so don’t cry…”

You want to say that you’re sorry too, for exposing yourself as a complete and utter fool in front of him. You hate yourself for showing this kind of weakness. He probably doesn’t want to deal with you; who would, after all? You did your best to lessen your burden on this group, and look where it had gotten you. Causing problems anyways. Were you worth anything at all—?

Eugene picks you up when your eyes are closed, and in your bewilderment your hands fly away from your face to find something stable to grab on to. It’s his shoulders you find purchase on. They’re broad; strong. He hefts you onto his back easily, jumping a bit to hike you up.

“Eugene, what are you doing—”

“You’re in no condition to walk,” he interrupts, talking over you. “I’ll take you back to your room. And then you’re going to eat food, like you should’ve been doing all along. Moron.”

“But…”

You trail off when you feel his hands, larger and warmer than you expected, clench under your thighs. His steps slow until he stops completely. The both of you stand in the window, catching stray beams of moonlight in your hair. Strands of blond almost glow, pearlescent this close up.

“So what, I’m going to have to take care of you forever?”

He says it smarmily as if it’ll mask the kindness behind his words. The hot tears well like pools in your eyes all over again, but you wipe them away hastily before they can fall. He cares. He cares about you, and it’d be rude to him if you went on denying it.

Without even looking at you, he seems to sense from the silence that you’ve accepted it. He keeps moving, the warmth of his back radiating throughout your whole body.

“Eugene,” you blurt out finally, after mustering the mental courage. He grunts in response. There’s a lot you want to say, but you don’t think he wants to hear it. Instead, you whisper,

“…thanks.”

You can almost feel his eye-roll, but when he glances back to you he has a shy pout on his face.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Just don’t pull this kind of stunt again, all right?”

“Okay.”

The warmth comforts you, lulling you. He smells faintly like lilacs and summer linen, which is impressive considering that there’s no laundry done in the apocalypse. You can’t remember the last time somebody’s ever made you this happy before; the last time anybody’s ever acknowledged you, confronted you as a human being.

You care a great deal for Eugene too, you think, your hug around him tightening ever so slightly.

**Author's Note:**

> support my writing? www.ko-fi.com/deltachye  
> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/tagged/chye%27s-fics


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